


First Impressions to Grand Succession

by musingsofatransboy



Series: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly Soulmate AUs [1]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awkward Davey, Cheesy Jack Kelly, I thought of this and went “we hAVE TO DO THIS”, M/M, Sarcastic Davey too loml, and then said “change my mind”, its the soulmate au where their first words to you are on your body, my friend said they aren’t keen on soulmate aus because they’re not always well written, so more incentive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-05 13:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofatransboy/pseuds/musingsofatransboy
Summary: Davey Jacobs was an astute, awkward, and sarcastic guy that everyone seemed to like once they got to know him.Jack Kelly was an arrogant, outspoken, cocky son of a bitch with a soft heart, and everyone loved him for whatever reason.The pair meet, and David can’t understand at first why anyone really could like him, but then again, he’ll learn.In which this is a modern soulmate AU where your partner’s first words to you are written on your body.





	1. Chapter 1

David Jacobs was a respectable kid. Work was done on time in his classes, even when his parents opted to switch him out of a private one, to the local public school near their apartment. His manners were upheld from a young age, and he had wit beyond compare. It was always amusing to him when someone would make some poorly crafted joke, only to be rebutted by one of his snarky comments that had the entire class gasping. He had friends, of course, and each and every one of them had given only their nicknames to him, but that changed nothing.  


There was Finch, and Buttons, and JoJo. There was also Katherine, who nearly matched him with his grand IQ, and clever banter. It was refreshing to meet people that had personality behind their smarts. Though, David soon realised that his friends did have ones of their own, and for the most part, they didn’t seem half bad. In fact, they all seemed to be one big group, everyone knowing everyone. Finch was close to a blonde kid named Crutchie, whose smile brightened up an entire room. David thought he was cool. There was Racetrack, who (fitting enough) was captain of the boys summer track and field team, Specs, another intellectual that David appreciated knowing. Race’s best friend, Albert, a redhead who liked to snack during each and every class, and had no issue calling out answers. He was surprisingly good at math. There was Mush, and Romeo, and twins Mike and Ike — (David didn’t know if those were their actual names or not) — yet they all seemed to have one thing in common. Jack Kelly.  


Jack Kelly was the classic popular kid from what David had seen of him; loudmouthed, flirty, no regard for the rules or others. David couldn’t fathom how any of the boys were friends with him, save for Race and Albert, who seemed to hang around him often. Even Crutchie spent most of his time with the brunet. He didn’t do great in his math class, or his science and his history class. David shared an English class with him, though, and while Jack, (surprisingly), didn’t speak all too much during it, he received high marks, and was almost always captivated by whatever book they read. It took him a little longer, to finish the class books, but it wasn’t nothing anyone else appeared to notice. David, by chance one day, when he had to walk a different hallway to get to class, that Jack was also in art. That’s where he excelled. The boy’s hands were covered with sunset orange, and reds and purples, it’d even gotten on his clothes, but David didn’t get to see _what_ he was painting, too busy trying to get to class.  


He never talked to Jack, and the other never talked to him. It was a little infuriating, given that now they’d had nearly half of the school year over with, and not a single word had been shared. He wanted to know why. He decided Crutchie could help, seeing as the kid was close to both of them.  


Crutchie was a year below both Jack and David, in fact he was in Race’s year, a junior. Light freckles dusted his cheeks, and his messy blond hair never seemed to stay in one place. He was more than willing to help David, enlisting Race, too. Though, their party of three became one of four, seeing as Race brought a friend along. A ‘friend.’  


“Ah, Davey, this is Race, an’ this is Spot,” Crutchie introduced, the pair sitting as close as physically possible to one another without actually sharing a seat. Spot hadn’t hesitated for a second before wrapping an arm around Race’s shoulders, giving David a look that dared him to say anything. The tallest of the bunch cleared his throat, then looked between them.  


“So… who is Jack Kelly?” He asked, dark brown eyes lingering on the trio in front of him.  


“He’s real nice, honest. He’s like a brother to us,” Crutchie replied, Race nodding his agreement and poking Spot’s cheek sheerly for amusement.  


“Jack’s annoying sometimes, a lot o’ the time, but he’s a good guy. Takes care of us an’ all. He keeps Crutchie from gettin’ picked on, an’ keeps most of us outta trouble. Y’know the Delancey brothers?” Race asked, David nodding. Everyone knew the brothers Oscar and Morris; they were practically the ‘welcoming committee’ of the school. When David first joined, they’d made a point of knocking the books from his hand, and shoving him against a locker. They’d gotten away with it, too. They always did. Principal Snyder just turned a blind eye to them, and apparently that was just as common of an occurrence. Race continued.  


“Yeah, Jack don’t let them beat on us. One time they got ‘em real good, an’ he stomped ‘em right after. He got detention for a week,” Race recalled, shaking his head. However, there was admiration in his eyes. “He’s a decent guy, he’s just always dreamin’ ‘bout goin’ t’Santa Fe,” he said, letting out a small laugh.  


“Why Santa Fe?”  


“We don’t know. Albert, y’know the redhead? He used t’tease Jack an’ say that it was written on his arm. ‘Come to Santa Fe, Jackie! We can be in love forever!’ Y’know, like maybe his soulmate was out there. I don’t think so, though. He don’t even talk ‘bout soulmates. He don’t talk ‘bout his thoughts much. I think that’s why he paints,” he rambled, Spot messing up his hair the entire time.  


“He flirts with everyone, from what I’ve seen. Maybe he doesn’t _have_ a soulmate. I know there are people who don’t. Or maybe, he does, and he just doesn’t care,” David replied, the three immediately shaking their heads.  


“No, he cares alright. Jack-be-nimble ain’t some heartless player y’know. He’s got too much heart. Cares more about these guys than himself,” Spot said then, gesturing to Race and Crutchie as he spoke. David had to admit, Spot was a little intimidating. It was almost funny too, given his stature, but he wasn’t about to say anything. Instead, he nodded and glanced between he and Race.  


“Are you two… soulmates?” He asked, and the grin on Race’s face gave the answer away long before the pair nodded.  


“For better or for worse,” Spot teased, a dramatic gasp coming from Race, who he kissed on the cheek, promptly shutting him up. David laughed softly at that, looking at Crutchie.  


“He really isn’t bad, though? Jack?” Crutchie shook his head.  


“He’s the best of the best, even if he don’t look it at first. He’s probably in the art room right now, that’s where he hides out durin’ lunch anyways,” he offered, David tempted to go for a visit. Or rather, research. He wanted to see if Jack really was what the boys were saying. With a quick goodbye, David rose from his seat, grabbing his messenger bag and heading down the hallways towards the art rooms. Of course, he’d taken too long, still not used to that area of the school building. The bells rang out, and soon enough the halls were filled with students moving in and out of classes. He tried to move through the masses, colliding with someone on the way.  


“Sorry, there’s no—” He began to explain the lack of room in the hallway, before realising he’d walked into Jack Kelly. Lucky day. He cleared his throat, the shorter of the two grinning his radiant smile, before David began to walk off. Jack called out though, hurrying after him. Why, David didn’t know.  


“Hey! You dropped somethin’!” The boy said, catching up to David who furrowed his brow; he wasn’t holding anything save for his backpack, and that was still on his shoulder.  


“I didn’t—”  


“Your standards. The name’s Jack Kelly,” he drawled, David staring at the boy. No. /No./ He shook his head dismissively, and tried walking off once more, before Jack followed him. The boy was in fact covered in paint, and apparently charcoal. David prayed it hadn’t gotten on his clothes in the collision. “Why’re you walkin’ off?” Jack asked.  


“I’ve got class to go to, don’t you?”  


“I’ve got a free period, an’ then I get to go to Pulitzer’s class, an’ then home. Easy day. Ain’t you in my English class?” He tilted his head. David sighed and nodded.  


“Yes, but I have to go to my math class, or Mr.Hearst’ll have my head,” he offered, subconsciously hoping it’d suffice for an apology, before making his way to class, and leaving Jack in the hallway. When he looked back, the boy wasn’t there.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack went home after school. It was a lavish place; expansive front yard, three spacious stories, he even had a room just to paint in. It wasn’t his, God no. He lived with most of the boys — Crutchie, Race, Albert, and Elmer, and Specs, and— so forth. Medda Larkin, bless the woman, had taken each and every one of them under her wing when they were younger, and they hadn’t left since. They didn’t feel inclined to, even if some of the kids were coming close to being legal adults. Medda was almost like the group’s adoptive mother, taking care of most of them since they were young. She’d known Jack the longest, taking him in after the incident with his parents. He hated talking about it. It didn’t feel fair, in a way. Everyone’s parents, or at least it seemed, were soulmates. High school sweethearts because they had to be. His father _was_ his mother’s soulmate. The first words he said to her were written across her shoulder, however, the words she returned were nowhere to be seen on his father. Jack wasn’t even sure that the man _had_ a soulmate. Something told him that he did, but fell in love with sweet Elizabeth instead. And, because of that, Jack was wary about soulmates. He was wary about ‘true love’ too; why have someone made for you if you end up not liking them? His parents were happy as can be when they were together, and yet they weren’t their designated match. Jack didn’t think too hard on it. What he thought about, instead, was David.  


Medda had stopped him when he first walked in, an almost knowing smile on her warm face when she hugged the boy and asked how his day went.  


“‘S fine, Mama. Ain’t nothin’ happened, really,” he said, shouldering his messenger bag and fiddling with the sleeve of his prussian blue flannel to roll it down, Medda letting out a small hum as though she didn’t believe him. “What?”  


“Anthony and his friend said you met with someone special? David, was it?” She stated, earning a shaking of the head. The action was very quickly followed by a nod, and Jack looking a bit confused.  


“Well, yeah I met ‘im. I think that’s his name anyways. He’s in my English class, a smart kid he is. Why’s he special?” He asked, Medda giving him a look that was returned by the boy. He knew what she was thinking, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to go along with it.  


“He ain’t my soulmate, Mama. Davey ain’t… like that.” Jack tried walking to his bedroom, Medda calling his name and effectively stopping him.  


“Now, Jack, you don’t know that. For all you know he _is_ your soulmate, and here you are blowing off the idea. Why? I know you aren’t shy none. Trust me.” A groan of almost embarrassment came from Jack, before he sighed.  


“Even if he is my soulmate, who’s t’say he wants t’be? My dad had a soulmate an’ it wasn’t my mother. He just left some poor girl ‘cause he loved my mother. That ain’t… what if that happens t’me, huh?” Medda stepped closer and hugged him once more, shushing him like the words were nonsense. Though, she felt the fear was justified enough. She knew, just like the boys, that Jack was too loving for his own good. Even with all the flirting, he wanted to settle with _the_ one, and he wanted them to feel the same. She pulled back, her hands on Jack’s shoulders as she looked him in the eye.  


“Jack, if he’s your soulmate, he ain’t gonna leave you for no one else. There’s no way in hell that he’d even think about it. And if he ain’t? You’ll find ‘em. I know it. But you can’t go pushin’ him away just ‘cause you’re _afraid._ What good’ll that do either of you, huh?”  


Jack looked at the woman, his mouth set straight as he scuffed his worn blue converse against the floor. She was right. He knew she was right, he just didn’t really want to admit it. There were plenty a time when Jack did whatever he could to prove that _he_ was right, rather than come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t. This wasn’t one of them. Arguing with Medda really was futile. That woman knew the boy’s every move, inside and out, and she could figure out what to say before he even opened his mouth. Jack let out a small sigh then, nodding.  


“Alright, Mama. Alright,” his hands came up almost defensively, “I ain’t gonna brush ‘im off then. I’ll talk t’him when I get the chance an’ all.” With that, the boy traveled up to his room and threw his bag onto the floor, flinching when he heard the sound of something hard colliding with the wooden floor. He didn’t even bother checking. Instead, he flopped onto his bed, toeing off his shoes then peeling off his button up. On his side, neat and small, were the simple words ‘Sorry, there’s no–.’ Jack realised that if he hadn’t been listening closely, he probably would’ve missed David even _saying_ that. The boy spoke quick, and almost like he was more telling himself rather than Jack, (even if they were in conversation. Sort of.) Jack didn’t know what the hell he was getting himself into. David probably didn’t either, he thought. There wasn’t really anything that either of them could do about the fact that they were soulmates. They could try their hardest to ignore the marks, or go on with their lives with the attempt at finding someone else that _wasn’t_ meant for them The thought twisted Jack inside. What if David didn’t want to be his soulmate? What if he was in his room, staring furiously at his mark and cursing internally because it just _had_ to be Jack Kelly. What could the two have in common? Jack knew David on the outside. David was scholarly, focused, driven in all the best possible ways, and Jack? He was a dreamer. An artist with grades that were simply put, average. They could be the ‘dynamic duo’, or the unlikely-but-totally-likely pair. Jack realised that maybe he wanted David to like him a little more than he’d let on.  


  


Walking into school that next morning was interesting for both parties. David didn’t seem like he was actively avoiding Jack, but the latter? He seemed far too skittish to even be himself. It was like he was walking on ice the entire morning, rosy cheeks included. The boys teased him about it some, which returned him to his usual, arrogant sort of self – but David couldn’t miss how the boy’s blue eyes flitted to him in the hall, and lingered for just a moment longer than usual. He also noticed his heart thudding faster in his chest, threatening to burst right out of his ribs, through his button up and blue sweater, and onto the (probably dirty) linoleum beneath their feet. David did what he could to ignore it. Just… play it cool, he’d told himself.  


Jack wasn’t fairing as well. His own heart hammered against his rib cage, loud in his ears. He could feel his hands getting sweaty and that _never_ happened. He didn’t get this nervous around people he liked. He liked Davey? He had to. Not in an obligatory sense, there was just no other reason for him to feel that nervous around the boy he’d hardly spoken to for more than five minutes the previous day. No, Jack Kelly was calm, cool, and collected. And now, he was panicked and hoping for the best. Crutchie noticed this as he walked over to his friend, nudging him in the side.  


“So, Jack,” he looked up at him and raised his eyebrows, a teasing smile on his face, “gonna meet up with that Davey kid? He seems—”  


Jack waved his hands and shushed him, the action drawing more attention than Crutchie speaking to begin with. “Aye, pipe down..! I don’t— no I ain’t goin’ t’meet up with ‘im. Why would I?”  


“‘Cause you gots an eye for ‘im.”  


“Says who?”  


“Says me. You gets all defensive when y’think people’s got you figured out.” Jack gave Crutchie a pointed look, his nose scrunching up as he flipped him off. Crutchie merely snorted before continuing.  


“He’s a nice kid. What’s the worst that could happen, huh? _You_ get rejected? That ain’t happenin’.”  


“You don’ know that, Crutch. He could be straight for all we know. He could be someone else’s soulmate,” Jack sighed, raising an eyebrow when he saw Crutchie looking at him a bit more sympathetically. “What?”  


“He’s your soulmate…” the blond said softly, as if piecing together finally why on Earth Jack was actually worried about how David felt. “That makes sense. You ain’t never nervous ‘bout likin’ people. Usually. You flirt with anythin’ that _walks_ , and now you’s clammin’ up around _Davey._ ”  


“If you say his name any louder I’s gonna–…” Jack started, clearly growing flustered once again, and losing his bravado with a sigh. “Look I– what if he ain’t? My soulmate, I mean. What if he _is_ an’ he wishes he wasn’t? Huh? Then what?” Crutchie put a hand on his arm, shaking his head a little.  


“He ain’t gonna do that. He’s nice, Jack. We talked yesterday an’ stuff. Told ‘im you was a good guy, even if you’s annoyin’,” he teased, earning a halfhearted glare from the brunet who almost looked thankful. There was a small amount of hope blossoming in his chest, and it rattled as the bell pierced the air.  


“What period is it?” He asked, the smaller boy furrowing his brow in thought before looking over at him.  


“‘S two first. See ya at lunch then.”  


“See ya…” Jack watched his brother walk away before groaning softly. Period two. One period before he had to go to English with David. This was his math class, and luckily, Albert and Specs shared the class with him. They’d be a good distraction for sure. Even with Albert there, throwing airplanes and crumpled little pieces of paper at his friends, he was almost the best student in that class. Third, Jack figured, even if Albert claimed to be first. It was hard to believe a kid who was prone to lying. Jack trekked up the stairs, meeting with the two boys on the way into the classroom. There were kids not so subtly passing each other their homework sheets in an attempt at getting them filled out before class started, a few filing through hundreds of songs on their phones, looking for just the right one to tune out whatever nonsense they were learning that period. Jack didn’t blame them, really. Math wasn’t his favorite class either. He was an _artist_ for Pete’s sake, not a mathematician, not a scholar. Just an artist, and by most people’s standards a damn good one. Most of his assignments were half-assed and covered in small doodles – eyes and trees and nearly anything that happened to be on his mind. Jack made the mental note to not think too hard about Davey that class.  


For better or worse, the time flew by. Jack’s worksheet didn’t even have a finished name on it, nonetheless much work. He shoved it into his backpack before leaving, telling the two boys he’d meet up with them after school to walk home. Then, he was walking to English. He didn’t hate the class; he received good grades, most of them average, for comprehension assignments. For creative ones, the only points he got taken off were for grammatical or spelling errors. He was a story teller, really. Be it through poetry, or small stories he used to tell the boys when they were younger and had no chance of falling asleep that night. Jack liked reading, too, just not as much as he probably could’ve given he found it difficult to focus on what was going on in a book for even a paragraph, and the words didn’t make sense sometimes.  


As he took his seat in the room, he noted that David was already there, a book of his own in his hands that were nearly covered in his sweater. If he squinted, he could probably make out the title, but he was not as smooth as he thought.  


“Oscar Wilde,” He heard and glanced up just a bit. David was looking at — and talking to — him. Great.  


“What…?”  


“That’s the author. Oscar Wilde. It’s all poems.”  


“That ain’t the book we’s readin’,” Jack said, furrowing his brow when David chuckled and cleared his throat. He almost looked uncomfortable.  


“I know that. I like reading. That’s all. And he’s one of my favourite authors,” was his explanation. Jack looked still like a lost dog, David worrying his lower lip as he thought.  


“Do you like poetry? Mr. Hearst says you’re really good at writing it,” the boy asked, the shorter shrugging.  


“Haven’t read any that I like yet. Haven’t read much period. I ain’t too big on it.”  


“Oh.” David looked at his own book, before back at Jack. The other boy was staring at him. “Well— um… I’m not the biggest poetry person, either, but there’s a few I like,” he held up the book in his hand. “Him, Walt Whitman, Langston Hughes, Emily Dickinson. I kinda like Sylvia Plath, but that’s only because of my sister—”  


“You’s got a sister?”  


“Yeah, Sarah Jacobs. We’re twins, she’s the older one, though. And I have a little brother named Les,” David said almost proudly, now, smiling at the mention of his siblings. Jack cracked one of his own.  


“Sounds nice, I got the boys. Crutchie, Race, Elmer, all o’ them. Well, they ain’t _really_ my brothers. Adopted an’ stuff,” Jack rambled on, gesticulating a bit as he did. His hands trembled just the slightest, before one rested on the back of his neck and scratched at the skin. David didn’t realise how close he was watching him until he shifted in his gaze.  


The bell rang, and their conversation was cut off. Jack let out a breath, yet his chest still felt tight. He wanted something. Dammit, he wanted to talk to David more. He’d much rather do that than… develop specific questions on the overarching themes of _Hamlet_. He was surprised he’d even gotten into this class. If David was in it, it had to be a class full of bright people. He scanned the room as though for the first time and made note of who was in it – a girl that he’d never once spoken to, who was typing furiously on a sleek laptop, (probably notes), the boy beside her dressed in some yellow button up and khakis. David, of course, in his cardigan and crisp white button up. Then there was Jack. A navy flannel, one that _almost_ matched David’s sweater, beneath it a plain white t-shirt, and paint-stained grey jeans. All that, paired with his converse, and a few bandaids on his hands from paper cuts? He was sure he’d never really felt more out of place. He was a stray hair amongst a sleek head, an alien.  


That’s what caught David’s eye, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Overnight, he’d battled between wanting nothing to do with the boy, and wanting to hold his hand and never let go. Now? Now, he wanted to wrap his arms around Jack and get rid of the nerves he so clearly had. It was odd, really. From what he’d seen and heard, he was confident. He wasn’t afraid of talking his mind to total strangers. He had no apparent shame, and yet there he was, stammering and trying to avoid eye contact. David let his fingers graze over his mark, glancing frequently at Jack.  


“Mr. Jacobs,” came the sharp voice of their teacher, Weasel as nearly every student called him, “care t’tell the class some themes in our novel?”  


“Um, of course. There’s… revenge, and– and religion, mortality. There’s things about sex, and gender–”  


“There’s a _lot_ about the role of women in this novel, since there’s only two women in it, and–”  


Mr. Wiesel raised his hand, shaking his head. “Ms.Pulitzer, I didn’t ask you, I asked Mr.Jacobs here.” He didn’t continue, though, turning back to the board and writing out what both of them had said. David noticed Jack giving him a slight smile, before the two went back to work. He’d finished early, and after rereading and fixing some of his answers, David cracked open his own book once more, finding himself lost in its words.  


_‘Whoever you are holding me now in hand,_

__Without one thing all will be useless,_ _

__

_I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,_

_I am not what you supposed, but far different._

_Who is he that would become my follower?_

_Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?’_  


__As David read, he could feel Jack’s eyes boring into him, curious and captivating all the same. He turned some to look at the boy, and realised he _was_ staring at him, however it wasn’t at his face. No, it was on his arm. David didn’t need to look down to acknowledge that his sleeve had ridden up – he probably did it himself without even thinking. The next bell rang, and Jack couldn’t move. Both of them were at some sort of stalemate. Until David rose, that is, his cheeks slowly saturating with a subdued scarlet. He nodded towards the door.  
_ _

__“C’mon, we… we can talk in the hall or something,” he murmured, Jack collecting his things and following him out. There was a silence, one that seemed to cover most of the hallway itself, even though the crowds were near defeaning.  
_ _

__“You’s my soulmate.” It was simple. Jack had figured it out, and he couldn’t help but sound relieved._ _

__“Um, yes.”  
_ _

__“’M yours, too.”  
_ _

__“I thought you didn’t have one, if I’m honest. You do flirt with _everyone_ ,” David said, though it sounded far from bothered. It was almost humoured. Jack shoved his things into his bag before nudging David’s arm.  
_ _

__“Yeah, an’ y’see how I’ve been actin’ all day? Couldn’t even _look_ at ya. I was ah… worried, I guess. That you wasn’t mine, or that if y’were y’didn’t want t’be. I hardly even know ya an’ yet I lost an entire night’s sleep over you.”  
_ _

__David couldn’t hide his smile, glancing down at his shoes before at Jack.  
_ _

__“We should hang out then. Get to actually know each other and what have you,” he offered, Jack raising an eyebrow then.  
_ _

__“You askin’ me out, Davey?”  
_ _

__“Uh, yeah. Yeah I am. We could… go to the park? Or… get food somewhere?” David moved to pull out his phone, quickly opening up a new contact and handing it to Jack, who punched in his name and number. When David took it back, he changed the name from ‘Jack Kelly’ to ‘Jackie’, a satisfaction mixing with his smile. He took note of the time, biting his lip.__  
“Class is about to start in maybe a minute? So I should get going, but I’ll text you and we can figure something out for real,” David said, lingering for a second. Jack watched him and took a swift step forward, leaving a faint kiss on his cheek before nodding.  


__“Alrighty, don’t be late, Davey. Can’t have you gettin’ detention before our first date,” he teased, and off the tall brunet went, Jack heading to his own class.  
_ _

__  
_ _

__

__It was hours later, nearing sunset when Jack’s phone went off.  
_ _

_From: Unknown Number_

_‘Hey, Jack. It’s David. Sorry for not texting sooner, my brother needed my help with a science project and Sarah kept yelling about you to my parents. She saw the little scene in the hall. Long story short, they aren’t letting me live this down. On that note, how about a park date?’_  


__As soon as he’d changed the contact name to ‘Davey’, Jack replied, grinning to himself.  
_ _

_To: Davey_

_‘Sounds like a good thing to me. Your sister tellin I mean. A park date? Liek a picnic? I’m all for it. I’ll see ya there then, just text when an were’  
_

_From: Davey_

_‘Like* Where* And yes, like a picnic. My mom wanted to have you over for dinner, but I figured that would probably be way too much for a first date. How about this Friday? At Seward Park, 5:00.’  
_

_To: Davey_

_‘Seward Park, 5, Friday. I’ll see ya there, Davey’ Already, Jack began planning what he’d wear, and how the night might end. He was sure he’d have to ask Medda for advice, but he’d save that for tomorrow.  
_

_From: Davey_

_‘See you there, and tomorrow in English. I’m gonna bring in some other poem books for you. They’re a lot shorter and you’d like them, I know it. Meaning, I asked Sarah for help and she went crazy picking out books.’_ That had his chest warming up. David really wanted to make a good impression on Jack, and even more, he was doing little things for him. Jack decided he’d repay the favor, picking out some of his best paints and a whole new canvas. It was hours later, and Jack realised he hadn’t replied to the boy. Even worse was that he’d read his message. He scrambled to wash his hands, then returned to his room and his phone, where he saw a single message that had him dreaming blissfully that night.  


_From: Davey_

_‘P.S. I’m not upset at all that you’re my soulmate, Jackie. I’m glad I found you.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo sorry this took so long. No real reason either. If you have any fic ideas, hook me up, I’ve got two in the works.


End file.
